Off the Beaten Track

For a decade, Peter Gujan managed to keep this place top secret. Somewhere out in the wilderness, yet only minutes from Davos and Klosters, is a backyard plot of untracked north faces and couloirs that skiers dream about. This spot is as remote as the backwoods of Canada, but with Alp-style lines, Alaskan-sized scale and none of the luxuries usually found in Europe. During the summer months, it is a well-known holiday destination, busy and packed with hikers and tourists. Winters are different. This spectacular cluster of peaks – half an hour as the crow flies from St. Anton - offers no managed winter accommodation and can only be reached via a steep gorge. It's called the Vereina Valley, in the Swiss canton of Grison.

Suddenly remote takes on a new meaning. In his novel 1984, George Orwell wrote: "If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself," and thus there was no way that mountain guide and shepherd Peter Gujan could keep his secret forever. Working as a farmhand on one of the mountain pastures, Peter first explored the Vereina Valley ten years ago. Exposed to an amazing landscape of vast ski touring potential, he wondered why the area had been and still was ignored by backcountry skiers. It wasn't far and offered classic routes and first descents: Rosställispitz, Unghürrhörner, Plattenhörner, Gorihorn, Roggenhorn.

So without talking too much about it, he put on his skis and spent the winters getting to know the faces of his private, untracked backyard. He rarely ever shared a line with another skier. Until last April. The chosen ones to share his personal playground were a group of pro skiers, all similar in their love for mountains, speed and motion, but with completely different cultural backgrounds. With their roots in different countries and culturally diverse, yet so united by their passion for snow and its lifestyle, the group included eight skiers and telemarkers from all over the world, now joining Peter and his guiding partner Gian Luck for three days of community and exploration.

Communicating with a mixture of languages and gestures, the group set out under heavy rain. The valley revealed its tendency to unleash huge wet avalanches as they traveled over several meters of frozen debris. It was a large group, moving slowly with loads of food, tents and all the necessities for camping out in the snowy backcountry. Peter was a bit tense, but it wasn't the conditions that concerned him, it was the group's expectations. For him, his backyard was a worn page, a well-folded map with familiar landmarks and memories rich with experience. Would these professional athletes - all well-travelled and far more experienced than he could ever dream of - see it, feel it and understand it the way he did when he first ventured out into this wilderness?

The rain turned to snow and as they gained elevation, a slice of sunshine opened a razor sharp view of peaks channeled by couloirs and marked with deep fangs of snow. As he had promised, Rosställispitz, the Unghürrhörner, the Plattenhörner, Gorihorn, Roggenhorn were all there, untouched, unskied and unfamiliar to the group. Located at almost 2,000 meters, the base camp was in the valley bottom, near a tiny stone hut that Peter had used during summer pastures. The simple structure was buried, cold and without water or electricity. Rustic for some, familiar to others.

By the time tents were set up and the doors to the hut were freed of the snow, the dark clouds predicted by the weather service had moved back in, gathered along the ridges just below Rosställispitz. There was enough time for a quick reconnaissance tour and everyone experienced amazing first turns in good visibility, with the exception of Christina, Hanna and Stian, whose powder run was pure sensation, riding between ribbons of rock in the fog. The dinner and evening were filled with enthusiastic conversations and the group grew closer together. Language barriers became trivial because the excitement did the talking, pure anticipation for what the next day would bring. After an early rise, the group split up into smaller, safer units.

Hanna, Paolo and Gian hit twelve first descents on a series of couloirs from Süsser Tal to the Vereina Pass, all above a physically punishing 2,000-meter elevation. Christina and Stian skied a massive south-facing couloir between the Plattenhörner that was so good they climbed back up to ski the north side down to the Vernelahütte. Rosställispitz proved to be intimidating, steep, and more than Conny, David, Jacob and Peter could manage in a single day, as it often happens when a peak is seen up close. Yet, their hard work was rewarded with some blissful turns in perfect conditions.

Within each person was the challenge of something different than usual, but also the essence of what backcountry means; its freedom, the opportunity to play with a landscape and have all things, body and soul, come together into one smooth ride. A pocket for the soul. The following and last day of their adventure into the wilderness, their return took them across the Roggenhorn to descend through the Vereina Valley, a less exposed route that held the promise of untouched north-facing terrain. Peter led the way. In separate white clouds of light and motion, their silhouettes bounced and turned through pillows of snow toward the valley bottom, completing a circuit that had little to do with distance and much to do with journey.

After three days spent in Peter's playground, the group took a moment to reflect before returning to their businesses of life, friends, family and everything that makes up the world we all know. They would all take home a lasting memory; and a new understanding that the beauty and wilderness of nature is still hidden somewhere in their backyard, not necessarily thousands of kilometers away. Peter looked at them; he could read in their faces that they had understood how he felt when he first discovered this valley. So far, yet so close. A magical place, truly off the beaten track...